Press my Button
by SHolmes4
Summary: AU: GLAMLOCK... Johnny joins the band bringing not only his bass but a tolerance for Sherlock's antics. For the love of the music...
1. Bandmate

AN: I totally found out about this recently and it bit my brain... so check out GlamLock and Sussex Vampires on tumblr if ya want more.

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><p>"Right, here we are Johnny boy," Lestrade leads him into the large warehouse space.<p>

The floors where covered haphazardly with rugs and instruments where tossed about everywhere, as the manger told him this was the practice and recording area. Next to that where some more bohemian style sofas and chairs that matched the rugs. There draped over the sofa was the long form of his new band mate.

"Sherlock get up," Lestrade prods with no response, "I know you aren't sleepin… come meet your new band mate."

"What's the point…" the man drawls darkly as he remains immobile, "He'll just be off soon anyway."

"I'm here ain't I?" John challenges, not liking be talked about as if he wasn't there.

"Give the bloke a chance…" the manager smirks, "Sherlock Holmes meet Johnny Lazers the new bassist… Before you start giving me shite," Lestrade pauses, "Mickey recommended him ya..."

"Stamford…" Sherlock's pale eyes finally opening to settle upon the ne musician in their mists, he hops up and openly appraises John with a critical eye; starting from his boots up his tight trousers to the bare torso under his vest and the instrument on his back. Without a word, he opens the vest fully causing John to squirm a bit under the sharp scrutiny. "You're quite a Hodgepodge," he hums, "How'd you get this?"

"A gig," he nods, standing his ground, "Some joker was pissed off his arse tossing bottles about, finished the whole gig though…"

"Well you're certainly dedicated…" he snatches something off the table and starts to trace the jagged lines of the scar. John doesn't flitch, knowing this was probably some sort of test as he watches the man concentrating on his task. "Let's see if you can keep up, Johnny," he smirks nodding approvingly at his handy work before sauntering of to the practice area.

Looking down at his shoulder, he sees bright pink outlining the starburst like edges of the old wound with a J scrawled in the middle like a badge.

"I think he likes you," A woman's voice breathes beside him.

"Is he always like that?" John wonders aloud.

"Usually," She smirks, "You'll be shagging in no time."

"Ignore her," Lestrade rolls his eyes tiredly, "Ia this Johnny Lazers," he introduces them, "Johnny this is the woman, or Ia."

"Let's see what ya got then," Ia smirks skipping off to the kit, pulling her drum sticks out from the back of her blood red shorts.

They get set up, Johnny only mildly nervous at just what the beautiful mad man will pull out of his sleeve; or lack there off really. This is a test that he needs to pass, prove he's not a nobody and finally share his love and passion for music. Sherlock starts off with some slow easy numbers, John keeping up perfectly; then with a quick glance at the bassist and a smirk Sherlock bursts off into a musical interlude.

John doesn't even remember seeing the man pick up the electric Violin, but it's enthralling the notes he can coax out of it. Closing his eyes, he listens and just lets the music flow out of him to join with the punishing speed of the violin next to him. Time seems to fade away as the music takes over and before anyone knows what happened they finished a set.

"Bloody brilliant," Lestrade claps enthusiastically.

"Wow," a young girl sighs next to him.

Opening his eyes as he comes back to reality, John finds Sherlock once again watching him with enigmatic curiosity. "I think you suit us…" the dark haired man offers.

"Yea down to the fucking ground," The woman boasts from behind the drum kit. "Well done Johnny."

"Brilliant," he nods, finding the whole thing a bit surreal as he grins like a mad man.

The band disperses as Lestrade whisks him off to meet the costume and make-up girl, who was apparently the same girl he saw earlier. Molly fits him out with various trouser and boot options for gigs, they move onto make-up when Sherlock strides in.

"Oh, um… hullo Sherlock," Molly squeaks nervously, "Just getting Johnny's look sorted, nothing too flashy like yours course… not that yours is or…anything," she shakes her head in embarrassment.

"Run along Molly, I'll take it from here," he dismisses her with hardly a glance.

"Oh, right ok," She nods picking up her kit before exciting the room.

"She fancies you," John informs him with a smirk.

"She's boring…" he scoffs, sitting next to him and perusing the color options.

"More of the rough and tumble type, are ya…" he hums, toying with his hair in the mirror.

"More like married to the music," Sherlock corrects, pulling out the blue he was looking for, "Let's make you the proper soldier then, just like daddy wanted." He smears a line across each of John's cheeks. "Well not exactly," he smirks, placing glitter over top.

"How…" he manages, trying to figure out how he knew that.

"I'm good at reading people, noticing things," he shrugs, "You also have a sister."

"Spot on," John smiles openly.

"I think you should paint around your scar more often," he traces a pale finger around the pink from earlier, leaving a blue smudge in its wake. "Draw attention to it…you're quite proud of it, I can tell."

"I like to think of it as a battle scar of sorts, got it in the trenches more ways than one, ya know." He shrugs.

The weeks after he was brought into the group fly by, the group writing and practicing songs at top speed in order to get a record out for the approaching tour. John and Sherlock spend every waking, and sleeping, moment together; staying up writing songs until they pass out, or John passes out. Sherlock doesn't sleep much, his mind buzzing with music both written and unwritten. It's an odd thing considering how comfortable they are with one another so quickly, especially given that others in John's position hadn't lasted half as long.

Though John was always told he had a lot of patience, a temper too; but patience none the less. He figured he just knew how to handle the genius, probably didn't hurt that the bloke seemed to like him. They had done a couple small gigs but they had a larger booking set as a sort of precursor to the tour, a practice run. The anticipation was electric, and the group was thrumming with energy in the dressing room.

John was wearing the new trousers Molly made up for him in a sort of silver, gold, and bronze metallic camouflage pattern with matching boots. She even took a boa feather from Sherlock's costume and made a long earring of sorts for him; it was purple and matched the paint he had put around his scar. The lines on his face where done in gold, and he had fabric bits tied around his wrists.

Sherlock's costume consisted of a black purple shiny trouser with a matching sleeveless jacket that came to his thighs that had a purple boa trim and framed his exposed chest. He also had a fishnet arm band on one arm and a fingerless glove on the other. There was a small star panted under his left eye and his right was coloured purple with black rhinestone out lining it jaggedly.

Ia's costume was practically transparent, in sheer material and a nude pink tone. She had billowy sleeves that where tight around her wrist and a bright blue belt under the plunging neckline. The long garment was open below the belt to reveal her bare stomach and super short silver shorts. Her lips panted the colour of blood and a heart on her somewhat exposed him in the same collar.

"Almost time boys," Lestrade pops his head in, knowing the woman doesn't care if she's one of the boys.

"This is ridiculous," Sherlock pouts, "Why don't we just start the tour, there's no point in this."

"Sherlock really," he sighs tiredly, "It's just to make sure we're prepared."

"No, it's to make sure Johnny can handle the showmanship of a large scale performance, he's already proved adequate so this is a waste of time."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," John huffs.

"You know what I mean…" Sherlock rolls his eyes, "You can at least tolerate me, so there's no point in finding someone else."

"Fuck you," he glares exiting the dressing room.

"Sherlock what's the matter with you!" Lestrade rounds on him, "You better hope he didn't pop out for good, you idiot." He leaves to chase after his bassist.

"He'll be back, he's a man of obligations," Sherlock intones, flippantly.

"You better watch yourself, this aloof diva act may fool your idiot fans; but we're privy to the real you Sher, so grow the fuck up." She states pleasantly before heading off to the stage.

As predicted Johnny is there, Lestrade sending threatening looks at Sherlock telling him not to fuck this up. The show starts and they light up the stages; it is clear Johnny's still a bit miffed about earlier, but it all pours into the music. The two men playing off each other and daring one another as they move about the stage; at one point Sherlock's behind John singing his heart out as they move together, his arm around Johnny's throat as the bassist throws his head back lost in what he's playing. With a harsh stroke on the instrument he reaches up and behind, yanking on side of trim off Sherlock's costume as he strolls away to play on.

After the show everyone's floored, by the performance. "That was the best show yet, my god," Lestrade praises as they stampede down the hallway to the dressing room, various people calling out good show as they walk by. "I wouldn't be surprised if Mycroft calls on this one, it was bloody electric," he adds once they're back in the more quite dressing room.

"I thought the pair of ya were going to just have off right in front of me," She smirks mischievously as she lays on the couch to undo her thigh high boots, "Not that I'd mind…" she adds with a wink.

"I thought birds where more your area," Sherlock questions bluntly, starring at his reflection in the mirror.

"You're my area, darling," she chuckles, blowing him a kiss from the couch.

"It's just a game," he states, his eyes finding John's in the mirror as they share a look.

"Yea, just venting is all…" Johnny nods.

"Well whatever it was keep it up ya, the fans loved it."

"Not a dry seat in the house," Ia, added salaciously.

Lestrade shoots her a look, "I don't care if ya have a row every show, as long as that performance comes out of it."

"Yes, yes, we get it…" Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Right you lot, go out and have fun… don't get in trouble," he adds looking mostly at the woman.

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><p>Please REVIEW! (I probably will continue on with this, but feedback really helps me keep going!)<p> 


	2. After party

AN: I totally found out about this recently and it bit my brain... so check out GlamLock and Sussex Vampires on tumblr if ya want more.

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><p>None of the band members change much for the after party, John switching his trousers and Sherlock switching out his jacket for a loose fitting printed shirt that hangs off him. The after party at the lower level of the warehouse at the studio is usually more of a circus then the actual show tends to be, drugs and alcohol everywhere while groupies hang off every word that pours out of your inebriated mouth in the hopes of having sex with a member of the band.<p>

The three of them are sat in an alcove, each on their own sofa and various paraphernalia on the table in front of them and people that may as well be scenery. Johnny is lounging back, drinking straight from a whisky bottle with a girl at either side of him. Ia is lip locked with some bird and Sherlock's sitting at the edge of his seat smoking after taking another hit.

"Ya down mate?" The bloke who probably brought the coke asks John.

"No," he shakes his head.

"Johnny's a purist," Sherlock explains, rubbing his eyebrow anxiously as he smokes.

"Wha?" the bloke questions.

"The music is enough…"

"It's quite a high," Johnny smirks, gesturing with his bottle before taking a swig.

"Yeah… but does it expand you mind?" he shakes the little bag to tempt John.

"As if you have one to expand," Sherlock glares at the glorified dealer, "Now leave Johnny alone."

The conversation shifts one of the groupies whispering in John's ear before nibbling on the shell of it and causing him to smirk. The alcohol warming him just as much as the girl at his side, taking another pull of his whiskey his eyes find Sherlock's as they share an intense yet brief look. John blinking first and turning to drunkenly snog the girl at his side, when he looks again the aloof front man is gone.

The party seemed to have calmed down considerably and the girl from earlier is between his legs working him to orgasm with her mouth. John's hand is clutched in her stiff hair as he begins to tense, "Christ," he pants as he jerks cumming in her mouth, "Sherlock?" he gasps, seeing his band mate standing in front of him expectantly.

"Wha?" The girl looks up in surprise and indignation as she pulls off. John quickly tucking himself back into his trousers.

"I require your assistance," Sherlock thrums, clearly still high, "I may have figured out the proper key change," he rambles.

"Right," he nods, "Sorry Karen," he pulls away from the girl with, "Business and all… Thanks again," he adds with a wink before following the other man out.

"It's Cathy," she huffs to herself as they leave.

Back up in the studio, Sherlock plays him the change on his violin, "What do you think? I figured it sounds better than the…" he quickly plays what they original had come up with.

"And you say I'm a purist, you don't stop," Johnny rolls his eyes with a chuckle, "It definitely fits better, that's for sure."

"Why would I stop?" he questions, "The music is what matters."

"I know, but you can take a break yea…" He smiles, "You know let off some steam… you'll spiral out if ya down slow down sometimes rest up."

"Oh I see, like you did with that tart."

"To each their own mate, I'm just saying it wouldn't kill ya sleep and eat every so often." John shrugs getting to his feet, "Ya know be human…Can't imagine what you'll be like on tour," he stretches a bit, "I'm knackered… Try to rest that machine of yours," he tosses back tapping the side of his head before leaving.

"My mind won't let me," Sherlock admits quietly.

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><p>Please REVIEW! (I probably will continue on with this, but feedback really helps me keep going!)<p> 


	3. Bus

AN: I totally found out about this recently and it bit my brain... so check out GlamLock and Sussex Vampires on tumblr if ya want more.

Also should have mentioned before... This takes place in the 70's (and in case it's not clear John and Johnny are the same person)

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><p>"Hey there Johnny boy," The Woman greets as they stand in front of the bus. "You prepared for zero privacy, long days and nights, and strange beds?" She leans towards him, "And even stranger people?" She smirks.<p>

"Always," he smiles, rising to her challenge.

"Alright on the bus," Lestrade orders, shooing them up the steps.

"Where's?" John starts as he climbs the steps, with his sack.

"You're late," Sherlock greets them, spread out on sofa type thing, in front of them.

"Ya ya, I'm the schedule keeper you prat," the manager snaps.

"Well you should be fired," he huffs turning his back to face the away from everyone.

"And so it begins," Ia shakes her head, heading toward the back where the bunks where.

John just shakes his head and follows suite, picking the lower bunk on the opposite side of The Woman's and apparently below Sherlock's. Fishing out his cigarettes he lights up, strolling back to the main area of the bus. He nudges the sulking man, earning a glare as the long legs are retracted so he can sit. Sherlock placing his legs back, now on top of the other man's lap.

"Everyone sitting?" Lestrade calls looking back receiving no reply, "Yes, good…" he huffs putting the bus in gear and pulling away from the warehouse and onto the main roads.

John was starting to realize that Ia was right, they'd only been on the road for a day or two and he was starting to wonder if he ever had a moment alone. Surprisingly Sherlock had been quiet, smoking and skulking about on almost every service within the cramped quarters. Johnny finds him sitting with his knees drawn up and a cigarette between his lips, his head resting against the cool glass watching the dark scenery fly by as the other's where sleeping. He just sits down across from him, not saying a word as he lights his own cigarette, making sure the window is cracked sufficiently.

"I hate this," Sherlock murmurs after a while.

"Traveling?" he clarifies.

"Why would anyone want to leave London?"

"Not everyone lives there," John shrugs, "Be a bit unfair if all our fans couldn't come and see us."

"Dull…"

"That's what this is about then?" he studies the dark haired man.

"Hmm?" Sherlock continues to stare into the darkness outside.

"This sulking about like you're going to your death," Johnny states simply, "It's because you don't like being cooped up…"

"I don't like being bored."

"That all…" he smirks.

"I envy you," Sherlock admits stoically.

"You envy me," he repeats taken aback.

"The music, everything… it's so simple for you."

"Um..." he licks his lips trying to figure how to respond to that, "Thanks."

The next day, they stop for petrol; Sherlock and Johnny traipsing out of the bus to procure more cigarettes.

"Don't go wandering off," Lestrade calls after them, "We're almost there, ya."

Sherlock peruses the aisles while John purchases the needed tobacco products, a group of girls trotting in as he sidles up to the dark haired man.

"Do that thing," Johnny instructs around a lolli, motioning to the birds who are giggling at the magazine rack.

The taller man smirks a bit before delving into it, "They're 16, bunked off school, don't buy the innocent act," he adds, "Unless it's the blonde one, she's still a virgin… though she lies about it of course probably said it was an older bloke."

"You're having me on," he shakes his head chuckling; "There's no way you can tell that."

"Says you," Sherlock chuckles, "Though if you want to ask I'd do it now, they're going to realize shortly."

"Oh?"

"The magazine…"

"Right," Johnny smirks handing Sherlock his sweet as he strides over to them.

"Excuse me," he offers, three pairs of eyes immediately falling on him.

"Ya?" the middle girl inquires.

"See my mate and I," Johnny motions back to where Sherlock is standing, as he leans over the rack, "He reckons one of ya is still a virgin, but I was like nah… they're clearly experienced young ladies…" he grins charmingly.

"What's that have to do with anything?" The blonde replies defensively.

"It doesn't," Sherlock's deep voice enters the conversation, "I believe he just proved me right," he motions as he sucks on the lolli. "Come along, Johnny," he calls.

"I knew it, Jackie's been lying," The girls turn on her accusingly.

The band mates giggling as they head back to the bus, "They didn't even know…" John chuckles.

"They'll figure it out eventually," he intones around the sweet.

"Hurry it up, will ya… jesus wha' ya buy the whole shoppe, let's go!" Lestrade orders them.

"Sorry sorry," John rolls his eyes, "Just killing some boredom," he smirks steeling back his sweet from Sherlock before clambering onto the bus.

"As if we weren't already behind on your brilliant schedule," Sherlock sneers.

"Can you go back to bein' silent, I preferred that," Lestrade sighs, following to get back on the road.

The drive that day is a short one, Lestrade barreling through despite Molly's insistence to switch shifts for a bit. Finally, they arrive stepping off the bus to take in the quaint little area they found themselves in. To avoid unwanted attention they'd been booked at an inn a town or so over, luckily they each got their own rooms. Not that it mattered much to since they all seemed to be connected somehow.

After a good night sleep and lovely breakfast at the inn, they packed up once again to head over to where they'll be playing. Molly handing out their costumes as they get made up for the night; John's pants are similar to the last shows only in shades of blue and silver, which isn't surprising since he's always shirtless. Sherlock's looks more like a torture device, black pants that look painted on with blue boots and thin black straps that crisscross his torso, each strap bejeweled to catch the lights. The woman was in a red tube top and white bellbottoms.

As they wait for the lights to come up and the show to start, one fleeting look from Sherlock and John knows that the game is on and he can't help but smile a bit mischievously. Once again the pair go into a sort of music coma, letting the music and their bodies completely take over. Sherlock writhing about on the stage thrusting his hips up as he continues to sing and John plays over him; Johnny pulls Sherlock up by the straps running across his chest for the next song. The dark haired man fetches his violin for the finale number, always ending with a bang.

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><p>Please REVIEW! (I probably will continue on with this, but feedback really helps me keep going!)<p> 


	4. Domestic

AN: Again this is glam rock like Bowie etc, (If you've seen the movie Velvet Goldmine it's like that.)

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><p>There was no after party after the gig since the England leg of the tour was on a real tight schedule. The band bust out the back door to head to the bus, Sherlock striding quickly past the fans to the safety of the vehicle while Johnny and Ia stopped to sign a couple autographs. Later on while they're on the road, Johnny's reading in the curtained privacy of his bunk when The Woman barges in on him.<p>

"Oi," he huffs at the intrusion.

"Relax Johnny boy, I just want a word…" She smirks in the dim light. "So is it true?" she asks taking his silence as a cue to continue.

"Wha' ya on about?" Johnny huffs tiredly.

"You and the virgin," she points to the bunk above.

"Gawd, is he really?" he asks in surprise.

"No clue," Ia shrugs, "Not for lack of trying of course, I walked about completely starkers one day back when we first started," She explains like it was a fond memory, "Lestrade's jaw practically hit the ground the poor dear," She chuckles. "But not Sherlock, carried on like he didn't know where to look, acting as if I was still fully clothed," she adds in confusion.

"Maybe you're just not his area," he flips through the magazine he's been reading with disinterest.

"All I know is I've never seen him going off with anyone at a party…" She sighs, picking at the blanket, "So out with it, then…" she waits expectantly, "There's definitely something going on between the two of ya."

"Even if there was…" Johnny starts, "What makes ya think I'd tell ya?"

"Fair enough," she nods, "But if any bloke needed a good rogering, it's Sherlock Holmes," She winks, slipping out of the bunk.

John can't help the small smile that that remark causes him, but they had a good thing going right now. If it came to anything it would probably happen on stage first, nothing quite so blatant of course; but the game would have to come to a head eventually. It'll be interesting to see who broke first. With a sigh, he hopped out of his bunk; sleep still eluding him after he finished flipping through the magazine. He grabs a beer and sits on the oddly empty sofa and stretching out.

"What the woman want?" A dark voice greets him.

"Like you don't already know," Johnny challenges, knowing full well Sherlock was in his bunk during that conversation.

"Mmm…" he hums absently, prodding John up so he could sit down. John returns to his lying position despite the new addition to the couch his sandy head resting against the front man's thigh. "She's hardly discreet, unless she wants to be."

"Yeah," he nods, "Reckon ya got be a bit… off…" he decides, "If ya wanta be tolerated around here."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock inquires, "You are not… off."

The sandy haired man chuckles a bit, "We all are," he peeks up at the other man, "Ia sticks around because you don't mind her, she's clever and bold… you find her different the most birds, so you get on." He explains, "Lestrade's Lestrade, you respect him in your own way… Molly, well she doesn't always register on your radar…" he states quietly, almost feeling bad for the poor girl. "I'd be mindful of that one, yea…" he warns.

They're quiet for a beat as the dark haired man absorbs this new data, "What about you?" he asks softly.

"Me?" Johnny smirks with a light chuckle. "Well it I think it helps that I'm decent on the music end, probably doesn't hurt I'm a bit barmy to began with…" He smiles genuinely, "Plus I tolerate your shite." He jests, earning a flick on the head from Sherlock, "Oi," he cries, reflexively slapping him on the face. "I'm not above mucking up that pretty face either, Holmes," he fakes a glare, as Sherlock pouts down at him in feigned indignation.

The next couple shows fly by without any chance to just hang out and party, which is taking its toll on everyone except Sherlock who could really care less as long he still, can get cocaine from time to time. The game continues, though the challenges haven't been too salacious lately, just enough to keep the fans wanting more. This particular stop is for a press conference, which is usually boring, the majority of the press merely doing their jobs and having no clue about the band.

"Right, this question is for The Woman…" the reporter flips through his notes. "What's it like traveling around with a bunch of blokes?"

Ia shakes her head at the stupid question, "It's lovely, really…" she smirks playfully, "Though sharing the loo can get bothersome, that man and his glitter," she huffs referring to Sherlock as the idiots in front of them chuckle like they know.

"Johnny Lazers," another member of the press calls out.

"Um, yeah?"

"You seem to favor a military inspired type look, is that a metaphor for something or some sort of social commentary?"

"Not at all," Johnny smirks, "Thought about joining up back in the day," he explains, "Figured might as well dress like a proper action man."

"Sherlock Holmes," a woman calls out, "Do you plan out your stage shows or just wing 'em?"

"Dull…" he replies under his breath, "Next question."

"No, he doesn't," Johnny answers for him, "We just go out and do it yea…"

"That mean your shagging?" A voice in the back calls out, causing everyone to pause and look from the asker to both Sherlock and Johnny expectantly.

"I'll differ to Johnny for this one," Sherlock smirks a bit, making it part of the game.

"And wha' about all those birds you've been linked to, Johnny? Is the ladies man thing just an act?" Another reporter calls out.

"Um…no, no, There's no act… My prick's none of your business now is it," Johnny answers bluntly, "It's about the music, yea… not about all that," he shrugs, "It always been about that, but you lot seem to forget that for stupid shite and..." he stammers a bit.

"We actually all have hot orgies all time," The Woman offers, instantly lighting the mood and shifting focus to a different topic.

The conference quickly wraps up, but John's temper is getting the best of him. Stewing in it for a bit, as he slams into the main area of the suite followed by his band mates and knocking some stuff about.

"Alright, you've got a couple hours to yourselves before we gotta pack up and head out," Lestrade informs them, " I'll be back in about an hour to check on ya." He leaves.

"Someone's upset," The Woman states in a sing song voice from the chair she's perched on.

"Why do you care what they think John, honesty…"Sherlock intones from the sofa as if the whole thing was boring.

"I really don't," he snaps.

"You're anger says otherwise."

"You left me to the fucking wolves out there, Sherlock!" John shouts, "I get they're just doing their jobs, but do yours!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He challenges, "I differed to you because it doesn't matter to me what they think."

"If didn't matter than you could have told them the truth, you idiot!"

"There's no point, we know what's going on so why does it matter? Personally I thought you handled that quite well."

"It's not the truth, that's why it matters," John shouts.

"Now now boys, kiss and make up," Ia interjects, waiting expectantly.

"Piss off!" The two men shout at her in unison.

"Bitchy…" she huffs, holding up her hands in surrender.

"I really don't see the problem here," Sherlock states truthfully, "Like you said it is about the music, but it never will be for them, their rags thrive on that trite rubbish, John! You say you don't care, but this is evidence to the contrary."

"This isn't just a part of your game Sherlock this is real life," He clenches his fists, "I don't expect you to fucking understand," he storms off slamming the door to his room.

"Illogical bastard," Sherlock huffs, as he storms off to his own room leaving The Woman sitting there in mild confusion.

Lestrade returns sometime latter finding Ia in the same spot as earlier, "Wha's going on?" he asks suspiciously as he looks about for the other two.

"I'd say a bit of a domestic," she shrugs, tossing her magazine down on the coffee table.

"Oh yea, wha' about?" he inquires.

"No clue, something to do with a game and the press conference… If I didn't know any better I'd say someone was jealous."

"Well hopefully they can use that for the next show," the manger shrugs helplessly.

"Can't wait," The Woman grins mischievously.

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><p>Please REVIEW! feedback really helps me keep going!<p> 


	5. Cuffed

AN: Again this is glam rock like Bowie etc, (If you've seen the movie Velvet Goldmine it's like that.)

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><p>The whole trip to the next show is spent in tense silence from Sherlock and Johnny, only Molly, Ia, and Lestrade conversing with one another. If the two men where honest with themselves they couldn't remember why they were angry in the first place, but where too proud to do anything about it. Johnny took up residence on the couch, strumming idly on his bass and Sherlock seemed to have hidden himself away behind the curtain of his bunk. Once they arrived at the hotel the two men skulk off to their respective rooms before they're due for the show.<p>

"I really hope it's all sorted between 'em," Molly states thoughtfully as she watches them head off.

"Chin up, dolly," Ia squeezes the other woman with a one armed hug, "I may have a plan…"

"Oh?" She questions cautiously.

"What do… the costumes look like for tonight?" She smirks as they walk off to their own rooms.

Later on in the dressing room, the band gets ready as the silent treatment continues on and The Woman nowhere to be found. Molly stumbling in to do a quick check of the costumes to make sure everything was in place. Sherlock's costume is a deep red sleeveless all in one with extended shoulders, and a large v cut out of the front revealing the skin underneath; black and silver stripes running up the sides of his thighs with silver boots. Johnny's trousers are black with shimmery red splashes all over them and red boots. Each man fitted with black belts that are sewn on to their costumes.

"It's time, let's get a move on," Lestrade pops in, looking about, "Where's The Woman?" he barks as Sherlock and Johnny file out.

"Um… she's already up on stage," Molly offers helpfully.

"She better be," he huffs, "Thanks Mol," he adds with a brief smile before taking off.

The men get to their marks on stage, grabbing what they need and checking it over. Once they're in place Ia skips on to join them, her hands behind her back.

"Hullo boys," she greets, pulling the men together for a brief squeeze, "This is gunna be a good one," she smirks at her frowning band mates, "I can feel it."

"Get off," Johnny grunts, trying to move away.

"Yes don't you belong over there," Sherlock motions.

"Just a tick loves," The woman grins, as they hear a click as she jumps away.

"Damn it, Woman!" Sherlock swears looking down to find that she had handcuffed their belts together.

"Now don't pull too hard…" She warns retreating to her drum kit, "Unless you want it to be that kind of show…" She winks sitting down just as the curtain comes up.

The show starts off a bit dicey as they get used to pulling each other around. Johnny having to grab Sherlock by the hip to stop him from taking off, so he wouldn't tumble after him. Their legs slotting together as they move their hips to the music; Sherlock slipping away so they're back to back, the duo leaning against each other. The close quarters they have to work with makes for even more groping, then usual. The music once again transporting the musicians to a different level as they as work out their aggressions, just like the first show the whole concert thrums with energy.

Johnny barely gets to hand his guitar off to a roadie before he's pulled off stage by Sherlock, heading to the dressing room as people comment on the performance.

"Oi, slow down wha's going on!" Lestrade calls after them.

The call is ignored as Sherlock storms them into the dressing room, closing the door and roughly swinging Johnny against the closed door, their hips pressed together as the dark haired man looms over him. His slender fingers at John's exposed throat. He licks his lips subconsciously, before Sherlock's mouth crushes into his own for a heated kiss. The sound of pounding vibrating through the door as Lestrade orders them to open it from the other side.

Sherlock pulls back as they share a look, "Hmm…" he hums contemplatively.

John narrows his eyes not quite sure what that was about, but deciding it was pretty brilliant.

"I don't know what you're up to in there, but open the door this instant!" Lestrade interrupts continuing to pound on the door.

Sherlock sighs in exasperation, pulling John with him so the others can enter. Lestrade, Ia, and Molly all falling followed by a smartly dressed woman.

"Now someone please explain to me what this is all about," Lestrade motions to the conjoined musicians.

"Where's the key Woman!" Sherlock glares at the tricky drummer.

"I haven't the foggiest," She shrugs with a smirk, as she sits down to unlace her shoes.

"I should have known you where behind this," The manager shoots The Woman a warning look.

"Come on Ia, give us the key," Johnny tries.

"Mmm… you're going to have to find it, I'm afraid."

"Oh for the love of…" Sherlock huffs, "Do I have to do everything," he states, grabbing the metal cuff attached to John's belt and placing his other hand on the man's side he gives a quick hard tug; ripping the fabric and breaking them apart.

"Christ," the other man exclaims as he clutches the fabric to prevent his trousers from falling open.

"Now we're talking," Ia, leans forward as if expecting the men to just go at it in front of her, Sherlock glaring at her before storming off.

"That's enough out of you," Lestrade warns her.

"I was only facilitating their needs," She pouts innocently.

Johnny turns his back to everyone to change his trousers, he needed a drink and to just get away for a while. He makes sure he has his stuff before heading out, "Sorry Molly," he shrugs, handing her the ripped garment.

"Eh, it's fine," She smiles.

He exits, leaving Lestrade to berate The Woman, half heartedly considering the fans more than loved the show. Half way down the hall he picks up a couple groupies before a voice calls after him.

"Johnny, Johnny Lazers?" She calls.

Turning around he notices it's the lady he didn't recognize in the dressing room. "Give us a tick ladies," he smirks to the girls, then turns to address the new comer, "What can I do for ya?"

"My boss would like a word with you, if it's not too much trouble," She offers brightly.

"Your boss?"

"I suppose he's yours as well," she adds, "This way, if you will Johnny."

She leads him to the hotel lift, pushing the pent house button as they head to their destination. John eyeing the lady trying to figure her out, "What's your name then?" he inquires.

"…Anthea."

"Ah yea…" he hums, trying to charm her a bit.

"Mhmm," She smirks, looking forward to convey her disinterest.

"Right."

The lift dings on the necessary floor, Johnny following the mysterious woman out of the lift. The wander down a long hallway before stopping at one of the doors, "You can go in, he's expecting you," she nods, making sure he enters the room.

"So you're Johnny Lazers…" the suited man greets him from behind his desk.

"Yea… And you are?" He questions obstinately.

"You don't know," he chuckles a bit, "I occupy a small position at the record label."

"Ah…" Johnny nods as it finally clicks, "Mycroft."

"Very good," the man smiles, "Just wanted to meet the newest member of our little enterprise…"

"And…"

"And?" Mycroft quirks a brow.

"Well, I know we're talented and all, but I hardly think some hot shot at the label would go out of their way to have a chat."

"Aren't you a clever one," he sizes the musician up. "I understand that you and Sherlock have been drawing a lot of attention to your selves, just wanted to know the real nature of that relationship... It's a precaution, you understand…"

"We're band mates," Johnny shrugs at the smarmy business man.

"And…" Mycroft leads, enjoying the reversal.

"And… That's none of your business or the labels."

"It could be, if this gets out of hand."

"It really couldn't," Johnny stands his ground, wanting nothing more to get to that drink he'd been planning on earlier.

"Very well, it was nice meeting you Johnny," Mycroft dismisses him with fake pleasantry.

"Ya piss off," he murmurs, storming out.

Johnny returns to the suite, the girls from earlier all ready amongst the others strewn about the furniture along with The Woman, Molly, and even Lestrade seemed to be chatting up some bird.

"There you are," one of the girls greets him, beckoning towards her with a bottle of whiskey.

He smirks, moving towards her on the sofa to procure the bottle; the girl pulling him onto her by the hem of his trousers. She leans in to kiss him, but he managed to prize the bottle from her hand and stops her by taking a swig of the amber liquid.

"Let me catch up," Johnny whispers with a wink as he chugs some more, fighting the burn that accompanies it.

Drinking until he reaches the point of comfortably numb, John returns his attention to the girl at his side who'd be prattling on about god knows what; finally shutting her up with a kiss then easing in to full snogging as her friend joins in kissing his neck.

"Let's move this somewhere more private yea?" The one girl suggests, pulling back from this with a playful nip.

Johnny nods, getting shakily to his feet pulling the girls with him by the hand towards his room. "You girls go ahead; I'll be right back…" He promises with a smirk.

"Don't be too long…"

He trots off to the toilet, bursting through the closed door and finding Sherlock perched on the edge of the top with a needle poised at his arm.

"You're drunk," the dark haired man greets him.

"You're high," John challenges with a shrug moving to the toilet on the opposite wall of the bathtub to urinate.

"Quite the pair we make," he hums, finishing his task and slipping back to lounge in the empty tub.

"Mhmm…" he hums in response, "Hey you ever meet the record label guy?"

"Mycroft?"

"Yea, yea…"

"Yes, I've had the displeasure," Sherlock drawls.

"Fucking prick, right?" he slurs, finishing up.

"You have no idea…"

"Don't fall asleep in here," Johnny warns him absently before stumbling back out to his room.

* * *

><p>Please REVIEW! Thoughts, comments, etc... THANKS!<p> 


	6. Hangover

AN: Again this is glam rock like Bowie etc, (If you've seen the movie Velvet Goldmine it's like that.)

* * *

><p>Johnny gets sidetracked by more alcohol, so when he finally reaches his room he finds The Woman had taken his place. He contemplates joining them, but decides he may be a bit too drunk for anything more than groping and goes back to the rest of the party.<p>

"John, Johnny, John, John," Sherlock's familiar voice calls, his high reaching its peak and causing him to be almost manic, "We're playing a game...come and play." He tugs him towards the sofas.

"I'ma coming," He slurs a bit as he's dragged to the chair and pushed down to sit.

The game starts, John not even sure what game it is. Though he thinks it's similar to truth or dare, but the whole thing is a blur. The last thing he remembers is a giggling, or was it crying, Sherlock covering his eyes as he laid out shirtless on the coffee table with his head hanging off, his long neck exposed while others did lines off his bare torso.

"Everybody up," Lestrade's voice calls into the sun streaked suite, "Come on places to be!"

Johnny wakes with a start at the loud voice, sitting up from where he had been slumped over the arm of his chair; his head spinning as he stretches and lays back. "Get up," he murmurs to a surprisingly unconscious Sherlock who's still hanging off the coffee table, giving the table a prod.

The action startles the sleeping man, causing him to roll of the table with crash, "Ah," he grunts on the floor as Johnny giggles before instantly regretting the action.

"Come on up you lot," Lestrade insists as Sherlock pouts in a sitting position on the floor, leaning against the sofa behind him. "Where's The Woman?"

"Here ya go," Molly cheerfully hands Sherlock and John cups of coffee.

John grunting in thanks, because that's all he can seem to muster at the moment.

"She's not in her room, have ya seen her?" The manager questions with a frown, not wanting to have to find her.

"My room," John states, remembering some of the events from the night before.

Sherlock remains immobile, starring at the pack of cigarettes as if willing one to find its way to his mouth and light itself.

"Sort yourselves out," Lestrade comes back from finding Ia with a hint of a blush clinging to his cheeks, "Ya got a press conference in a hour or so then we're hitting the road."

Johnny must have dozed off again because when he opens his eyes Sherlock finally willed himself to light up and was leaning back lazily as he smoked, his eyes closed as if in meditation. "Alright, then?" he asks the dark haired man, realizing there was glitter all over the place from last night. Sherlock just sighs as he releases the smoke from his lungs, and that's answer enough.

Lestrade comes back to collect them with time to spare, Ia and Johnny both sporting sunglasses. The Woman dressed in white with a large blood red hat. Johnny wearing jeans and a tight stripped shirt, since they'd be leaving afterwards; Sherlock hadn't moved.

"I said up," he crosses his arms expectantly in front of the dark haired man, but getting nothing. "Don't be all strung out and mopey, there's things to do yea." Sherlock still doesn't respond, just stubs his cigarette out in the ash tray. "Fine," Lestrade huffs, pulling the other man up and carrying him like a child over his shoulder before depositing him into the tub and turning the cold water on him, as the other band mates fallow after to watch.

"I'm not a child," Sherlock sputters under the spray.

"Well you're behaving like one," he snaps back, "Now get cleaned up," he orders stomping out of the room past Ia and John.

Sherlock joins them in a pair of black flares and a purple vest, looking just as bad as they all feel. The band heading off to the meeting room to answer more dumb questions from stupid press people, and the trio looks a sight. The Woman resting her head on her hand as she leans heavily on the table before them and wincing at the camera flashes, even though she's wearing sun glasses. Johnny's leaned back in his chair with his arm over the back of the other chair and Sherlock leaning on him.

"Kill me please," Sherlock murmurs.

"Only if you kill me first," the other man replies, trying not to be sick every time a picture is taken.

"Bang," he breathes pretending shoot him.

"Can I just sleep through it?" Johnny wonders aloud, "They can't see my eyes."

"Mmm," Sherlock hums as the barrage of questions begins.

"You two seem pretty cuddling, especially after last night's shackled performance," A reporter starts.

"That's not a question," Johnny blurts out.

"If by cuddly you mean, using each other as props in order to remain upright so we can answer your stupid observations, after celebrating a well done performance, then yes we're cuddly," Sherlock intones vehemently.

"And no the hand cuff thing wasn't planned, at least not by us," he looks over to Ia.

"So am I to understand you're behind that stunt at last night's show?" Another reporter inquires.

"Guilty as charged," The Woman smirks.

"Sherlock… your band mates have been linked to various romantic entanglements, but you remain aloof… What is your inclination?" He leads.

"Irrelevant," Sherlock sighs having enough of the same trite.

Lestrade picking up on the shift and stepping in to cut the interviews short, "That's all for today, got a tight schedule to keep." He calls to the people, "Thank you all for coming," he adds as the musicians file out.

Back on the bus, John quickly sits on the couch resting his face in his hand. Sherlock sprawling out beside him, his feet hanging off the end; the other's clambering on wanting nothing more than to sleep.

"You two alright then?" Molly asks softly.

"I told you my brilliant plan would work," The Woman answers her.

Sherlock lazy makes a rude gesture at Ia, John ignoring everyone as he wills himself unconscious.

"I was trying to be nice," she huffs, storming off to her bunk.

"That went better than expected," Lestrade states, referring to the Q and A earlier. "Good job on not being sick everywhere," he offers, as Molly chuckles.

"The day is still young," Johnny breathes.

Molly sits up front with Lestrade as they hit road, a nice quite falling over the bus for a while. The group rests, Sherlock awake, but lounging as they continue on towards their next destination. After a stop for food and such, the band seems to be hurtling back to their normal selves. Johnny even coaxed Sherlock into having a bite of his sandwich, which ended up being half; though mission accomplished.

Later that night, Johnny was reading in his bunk when Sherlock climbed in. "Oi, can't ya knock," he huffs.

"It's a curtain, John, not a door."

"Well at least give me some warning yea?" he huffs, "Wha' ya want, then?"

"Bored," Sherlock replies.

"Can't you bother someone else?" he smirks.

"They're sleeping, and Molly's driving… I think it best not to distract her."

"Quite right," John nods. "What game did we play the other night?" he asks, making conversation.

"The one where I'm a human table," he chuckles a bit, "I hardly remember, though I believe I may have composed a new song."

"That's amazing," he tells him earnestly, "High as a kite, and still hearing the music."

"It's making it stop that seems to be the challenge," Sherlock states.

"You really need to find a way to unwind, mate…"

"So I've been told, and a good rogering as well," he smirks, referring to the conversation Ia and John had a while back.

"Everyone needs that once in a while," Johnny smirks.

* * *

><p>Please REVIEW! Thoughts, comments, etc... THANKS!<p> 


	7. Jim

Johnny wakes up as everyone is piling back onto the bus, peaking his head out of his bunk before deciding to shuffle out. Sherlock's on the couch, with his knees drawn up as he lights a cigarette, The Woman opening a pack of crisps.

"Look how's finally about," She chuckles.

"Mhmm," he rubs his eyes, steeling Sherlock's cigarette from between his lips and sitting down next to him. "Thanks for letting me we stopped," He huffs around the tobacco product.

"Someone's snippy this morning…" The Woman smirks.

"It's after noon," Sherlock corrects, snatching back his cigarette and handing him a pack of crisps, John smiling in thanks.

"Morning's whenever you want it to be darling," Ia offers, flicking a crisp at his head. The dark haired man shakes the crisp free from his hair and flicks the butt of his cigarette at her, The Woman jumping up with screech. "Sticks and stones Sher," She glares, stomping the cigarette out.

"No starting fires, alright?" Lestrade calls back to them, "Bunch of children," he huffs.

"What are you so happy about Molly?" John asks, noticing the happily humming costumer as she mends some fabric.

"Oh nothing…" She lies, distracting herself with her work.

"It's not a what it's a who," Sherlock states, "Oh Molly…Please don't tell me it's that ghastly little Irish man again," he sneers.

"It's," she starts with a frown, "It's none of your business…."

"That's a yes, then."

"Watch it," Johnny kicks him in the shin as a warning.

"He's a nice bloke Sherlock," Molly huffs gathering her stuff, "You're just so… mean." She walks away.

Sherlock looks over at the other man who's watching him expectantly, "Problem?"

"That was a bit not good Sherlock," he explains, "You jealous because you're not the only one she's pinning over?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he rolls his eyes.

"What is it then?" John prods, "This bloke annoying or something…"

"He's obsessed with me, number one fan to a dangerous level, if you will…"

"When you say obsessed…" he leads.

"Yes," Sherlock replies simply, answering the unspoken question, "Trying to get me for ages."

"Oh," he nods in understanding, "Why don't you just tell Molly?"

"Didn't I just?...She clearly doesn't believe me."

"You could be nicer about it," Johnny offers, receiving an eye roll.

They arrive a bit behind schedule, being forced into their costumes while still on the bus and running into the building to do their make-up real quick then race up to the stage. Sherlock barley has time to discard of his cigarette before they are on. Once again, everything is electric as they play the game. Sherlock pushing Johnny's buttons by licking his neck with a good measure of groping and a bit of unadulterated guitar fellatio; needless to say the front man won.

After the show, John manhandles Sherlock into the toilet on the way to the dressing room. Still on the performance high, as he presses himself against the taller man their lips meeting desperately, "You're gorgeous," he pants as the break for air, "And completely mad," he adds before the resume where they left off.

The intent to go further is there, but the bathroom door opens a bit and interrupts them. "Sorry," an Irish accent calls, closing the door.

"We should probably get back," Sherlock breathes, wiping some of the transferred make off of John's mouth to make him presentable.

Johnny nods breathlessly, taking a step back and licking his lips subconsciously. The men traipse out of the toilet reluctantly, walking past what appeared to be another groupie.

"Hi Sherlock," the same voice that interrupted them calls.

Sherlock ignores the man and continues his path to the dressing room, with John at his heals.

"There ya are," The Woman greets them, "Great show by the way," she smirks.

The two men go off to change and Sherlock sitting down at the mirror to wipe off his face paint.

"It was quite brilliant," the Irish man adds, striding into the room.

"Jim!" Molly cries, greeting the man with a hug.

"Mol, I told ya…" he tells her quietly, as Sherlock and John share a wary look.

"Sorry, sorry," she nods, turning to face everyone, "Ya remember Moriarty," she offers.

"Look at you all grown up," Ia greets looking him up and down, "What's it been, two…three years?"

"Two, I reckon," Moriarty smiles charmingly.

"Too long, I'd say," Molly adds with a smile. "This is Johnny and of course ya know Sherlock," she calls pointedly.

"Yeah…" he nods watching the dark haired man in awe, "It was a really great show."

Sherlock continues about his business like no one talked, prompting John to answer for him, "Cheers mate."

"I started a band too ya know," Moriarty continues as if Johnny didn't say anything, leaning on the work top next to Sherlock. "You where kind of my inspiration…" he explains.

"No I wasn't," Sherlock replies coolly, "I believe it's the fame that inspires you," he rises from his seat and strides out.

"Ignore him, he's always like that," The Woman rolls her eyes.

"Um, nice meeting ya," Johnny throws back before leaving himself.

"Ya sticking around tonight?" He hears Molly ask the other man, but not hearing the reply.

* * *

><p>REVIEW! PLEASE! any Thoughts, comments, etc... THANKS! They're greatly appreciated.<p> 


	8. M

Johnny searches about, but can't find the front man anywhere. He expected to find him on the bus, but it was completely empty so he heads off to join the after party figuring he may be there. Sherlock wasn't there, from what John could tell; but that Moriarty bloke was. He was in the corner chatting with Molly who was blushing like a school girl; needless to say there was something off. A certain malicious glint in Moriarty's eyes that just rubbed Johnny the wrong way. Quickly procuring a drink he chatted with a couple roadies before saddling up to Ia for a quick word.

"Haven't seen him," Ia states knowingly.

"Don't know what you're on about," he sips his drink.

"Mhmm…" she hums, eyeing him.

"What ya think about number one fan there?" Johnny motions across the room to Moriarty.

"He's an infant," she informs him simply, "Wanting to play with the big boys."

"That's one way to put…"

"God help the world if someone's foolish enough to sign him."

"That creepy sod…who'd sign him?" Johnny chuckles.

"He's got Molly under his spell," She points out with a look, "He only needs to charm people who can be useful."

"Hmm…" he glares thoughtfully at the man. "Molly's a smart girl, surely she sees something."

"Oh she does," The Woman assures, "Every woman loves attention once in awhile…Don't fret Johnny boy," She pats his cheek, "He'll be gone tomorrow… then this will be nothing more than a bad dream." Ia strides off to greet some other people.

The night progresses, John keeping an eye out for his seemingly absent band mate; as well as the Irish man. It's more of a laid back after party tonight, people drinking and chatting calmly instead of raging. Johnny's pleased; he didn't much feel like getting too off his head tonight anyway. This leg of the tour was shaping up to be a bit busier, which was becoming tiring. He had wedged himself in a corner chatting up a couple groupies and getting to know a couple roadies.

"It was such a mess… I ain't lying, it got everywhere," The one girl giggles, telling a story that John had zoned out off.

Across the room, Moriarty was slipping out of Sherlock's room brushing off his sharp outfit. Johnny and the Irish man make eye contact; a smug smirk twisting the man's face as he raises a brow in a challenging gesture, John hardening his gaze never breaking eye contact as he takes a sip of his drink. Moriarty scuttles off into a group of people and virtually disappearing.

"Needless to say the whole beat thing weren't for us," the girl ends, everyone chuckling as John seizes the opportunity to excuse himself.

Taking a roundabout path, he ends up at Sherlock's door hesitating before slipping into the room. Sherlock's on the ledge of the winged back chair with his knees drawn up, the familiar thrumming coursing through him as he stares blankly a head as his mind whirls.

"Sherlock," Johnny calls stepping cautiously closer, "Alright?" he asks, noticing the sheen of sweat clinging to the man's sallow skin. For a second Sherlock looks like he's about to answer, his lips quirking as he trembles. John's there with the bin as soon the dark haired man begins to retch, the tremors getting worse. "Sherlock what happened?" he asks, keeping his voice steady as he dreads the worse. The younger man whimpers a bit, clutching onto John after being sick, John catching sight of the glittering letter M scrawled on his pale neck.

"Come on, to the toilet," Johnny instructs, hoisting the slight form up, "Christ you're shaking like a leaf… did Jim do this?"

The question earns him a weak head motion that he can't tell if it's a shake or a nod as Sherlock's eyes start to flutter. Luckily Molly chooses that moment to come in.

"Sherlock, I," She stares doe eyed at the sight before her.

John's grip slipping desperately toward the floor as his band mate starts to seize. "Get Lestrade now," Johnny orders the costumer urgently.

* * *

><p>REVIEW! PLEASE! any Thoughts, comments, etc... THANKS! They're greatly appreciated.<p> 


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